


Swallowing Her Pride

by Blarghal



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Trilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blarghal/pseuds/Blarghal
Summary: An unconnected one shot, possibly more in the future.  Explicit relations between Cal Kestis and Trilla Suduri.A big thanks to @acosmiclove for inspiring me to write and being incredibly supportive and encouraging!  <3Tilla is trans in this story.  If it's not your thing, pass it by.Edit:  I have learned I have tomanually insert italics, so I have.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri | Second Sister
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Swallowing Her Pride

Standing bare in their shared room, Trilla thinks it's the look in his eyes. That’s always what draws her in. The way his eyes seem to rove over every inch of her, not with lust, but with something akin to awe. She feels the heat, feels her cheeks flushing. She _knows_ how he feels about her, but it doesn’t stop her from feeling the shame and guilt that constantly plagues her. She very nearly covers herself again, but that look in his eyes, _almost pleading_ , stays her hands. Instead she opts to level a glare at his stupid, scarred, _beautifully endearing_ face. He gulps. 

She’s already taller than him, so with him on his knees it’s nearing absurdity. Still, _she_ certainly isn’t going to change anything. She revels in the slight tremble running through his frame. She lets her hand drift up from her side to cup his cheek. Her heart flutters at the way his eyes close, the way he subtly shifts to lean further into her touch. Her other hand floats up to his garishly red _but oh so soft_ hair and she allows herself a moment to appreciate the second shudder that her touch sends rippling through his body. She is content, for the moment, to simply caress him, watching the subtle play of emotions dance across his face. Even moreso content to listen to the soft moans her dancing fingers manage to pry from his lips. 

Cal’s eyes open _oh so slowly_ and he looks up at her. There is a _fire_ burning in those luminous green eyes, half covered by heavy lids. She sucks in a breath at the pure, blazing _passion_ radiating off of him. His eyes are locked to hers as she tilts his head back. They continue to burn with near reverence as she bends at her waist to bring her face to his. Tightening her grip on his chin _oh so slightly_ , she _basks_ in the tremor her every move causes him. With her nose mere millimeters from his she can see every facet of his eyes. The way the pupils dilate as she draws nearer, the faint speckles of gold spread throughout the emerald. The slightly glassy look he gets as her lips slowly descend on his. The kiss is soft, practically chaste even, given the circumstances. But she _adores_ the hitch in his breath it causes. She adores his involuntary lurch forward to keep their lips attached as she pulls away _even more_. 

She notes with some satisfaction that his breath has quickened as she stands to her full, impressive, _if she could be so bold_ , height. She lets her hands drop from his face to rest on his shoulders and looks down her nose at him. The _twitch_ she observes makes something smouldering deep inside her _ignite_. She can _feel_ his desire radiating off him in waves. She knows exactly what he wants from her. The only question is how long she wants to withhold permission. _Whether she is okay with granting it_. 

“Trilla….. Please….”

His voice seems to have some mystical properties that she can’t quite understand. At the same time that it stokes the flame deep in her belly, it also melts her heart. The pleading in it _definitely_ excites one part of her, feeding her desire to _dominate_ him completely. But another part of her, that part of her that freely and carelessly spoke of such blasphemies as her feelings, _the truth, it whispers treacherously_ , yearns to do nothing less than hold him in her arms and give in to _his_ every desire. Something about him breaks down every shield, every defense, worming its way into the deepest crevasses of her heart and holding tight. She wants to make him happy. She wants to be the _reason_ for his happiness. She wants more than _anything_ to be _worthy_ of the look in his eyes. She just isn’t sure if she can be. 

“Trilla….?” 

His voice draws her attention back to the present. She looks down at her beautiful boy on his knees in front of her. His hands are hovering near her waist, his eyes showing that hint of concern that she sometimes catches when he scolds her for “being unfair to herself” or some such nonsense. His _caring_ look. She knows why. 

“Trilla….. Can I…..?”

She looks to where his hands are still hovering and can sense his intent. He leans in closer to her, his face nearing her most intimate area. He maintains his focus on her eyes, searching for any sign of displeasure or distress. She takes a deep breath to try and calm her sudden nerves. The light touch of his fingers against her waist sends an electric shiver up her spine, her breath hitching in her throat. She can _feel_ his _breath_ on her flesh. He is so _close_. He isn’t turning away. _Of course he isn’t_ , her smug inner voice chides, _just like you knew he wouldn’t_. 

The feeling of his lips on her hip elicit a sharp gasp from hers. Her eyes fly open dart down to see him planting gentle kisses from the edge of her waist, slowly working his way inward. Her breaths deepen as he approaches her burning core. Her hands, having long since slipped from his shoulders back to her sides, twitch with each touch of his lips. 

_You know where he’s going. You know what is coming._

She tries not to pay attention to that voice. It’s _harder_ than she thought it would be. Until, of course, Cal’s mouth finally finds its meandering way to her length. She gasps aloud. His lips, so soft, _so warm_ , start their journey at the base. He slowly, _so very slowly_ , moves down, _or rather up, she supposes_ , her rapidly hardening shaft. Her fingers spasm at her sides as his hands, having grasped her hips, begin gently massaging them. That is hardly worth mentioning, of course, given the trail of lightning his soft kisses are leaving along her now, almost painfully hard, cock. A trail that ends with a _dazzling_ array of sparks cascading behind her closed eyelids once he reaches the head. And, of course, plants a final, sucking kiss on it for good measure. 

She’s sure there’s something she’s supposed to be doing at the moment, but her brain doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with her. All that she _can_ do, it seems, is to emit a low, growling moan of utter _bliss_. She _swears_ she can feel his lips form a smile at the sound from where they are, still planting small kisses on the underside of her shaft. The distant and frankly downright _rude_ part of her mind that is seemingly always prepared with a quip is, for once, completely silent. She _almost_ has enough time to enjoy that before her attention is diverted to more _pressing_ matters. 

Namely the feel of Cal’s tongue pressing against the underside of her shaft. He starts at the base again, just barely touching her balls, before slowly gliding his way up the full length to the head again. He pauses there to swirl his tongue around the crown before returning back the way he came. As he reaches the base this time he continues his journey and gently caresses her sack with his tongue. 

She can do nothing to stifle the sharp intake of breath at the sensation. And he has the _audacity_ to _chuckle at that_. _That little **shit**_. Not that she’s in a position to do anything about it. She isn’t even fully in control of her body, it seems, if the vice grip of her fists in his hair is anything to go by. She can’t recall her hands having transitioned from twitching spasmodically at her sides to fists clenched in his hair, but he brought it on himself. _Serves him right_. 

Of course there’s little time for celebrating small victories like _locating her own limbs_ when he, quite without warning, decides to _take her into his mouth_. It’s a damned good thing she has a solid hold on _something_ to ground her senses, otherwise she might have fallen over. _That wouldn’t be very graceful, now, would it?_ She can’t be bothered with her internal commentary’s irreverence at the moment. Not when something much more important is blotting out her sense of anything beyond Cal and what he’s doing to her. 

He is rather skilled. Well, that’s an understatement, really. He is _spectacularly_ skilled. She has, in the past, perhaps, maybe made some less than politic, off colour jokes concerning his truly prodigious skill in such an un-Jedi-like art. _Au contraire, saber technique is essential, as I’m sure you’ll recall_. **Anyway**. She had made some insinuations about time spent in the company of his fellow scrappers, and more specifically, _which_ scrappers. She had certainly appreciated the delightful shade of pink he’d turned. And of course she had appreciated the distraction from her own insecurities by playing on his. He had borne the brunt of her ill humour, however, and he persevered in the face of her dogged attempts to sidestep certain issues. 

Now, as she stands on shaky knees with hands fastened quite probably painfully to his scalp, she can acknowledge that her prior actions were pure folly. He is no doubt supremely skilled, of course, and that skill certainly came from _somewhere_ , but it doesn’t matter to her. _He_ matters to her. _She_ matters to _him_. She mattered to him enough for him to help her finally realize that she is perfect just the way she is. 

Her deep introspective train of thought is thoroughly derailed when, beautifully skilled and _wonderful_ boy that he is, Cal’s nose makes contact with her belly. She hadn’t noticed, but her breathing is ragged and hoarse and she’s closer to finishing than she had honestly thought she’d be. She is, in actual point of fact, damn near about to blow. She tries to utter some form of warning but her voice catches in her throat, being beaten out by a crooning moan of pleasure. She tries instead to pull his head back, her hands _are_ still clenched around his soft hair, after all. Cal surprises her here, taking her hands in his own and forcing them to her sides. He _must_ know what’s going to happen if he continues. Yet he persists in bobbing his head up and down, nose to belly every. Single. _Time_. 

The pressure is building, low in her gut, and there’s nothing she can do about it. The immense pleasure is almost _painful_ as she nears her release. Cal continues to bob his head, increasing his pace in time with her heaving breaths and trembling legs. He’s moaning around her hard shaft, the _vibrations_ resonating throughout her entire body. Just as she feels she’s about to white out from the _intensity_ of it all, a dam bursts deep inside her. 

Her moan is _loud, so very loud_ , loud enough that a different section of her mind, one still caught up in caring about appearances, is _sure_ the whole crew knows what’s happening. But the rest of her doesn’t give a fuck. Cal instinctively takes her full length down his throat and grabs her ass in both hands, pulling her closer to him. She _groans_ in pleasure as she unloads down his throat, and he moans his own pleasure back at her. His tongue is moving, seemingly trying to coax every ounce of pleasure out of her that he can, and she gives him _everything_. She’s _sure_ that she can’t possibly keep going. _Surely_ the _stars_ she’s seeing can’t be good for her, right? 

After what feels like an eternity, _a blissful, wondrous, eternity_ , she feels him slide off of her throbbing cock, planting a last, lingering, sucking kiss on the head before releasing his grasp on her. He seems to have had more foresight than she did, since he somehow maneuvered her over to their shared bed. The bed she has just dazedly collapsed into. She is far too drained to notice him swallowing everything she gave him. Too drained to notice him get off the floor. She is finally drawn from the pleasure induced haze by the feeling of his hands gently lifting her up to position her properly on the bed. He adjusts the pillow under her head, eliciting a contented sigh from her, before sliding into the bed next to her. He brings a blanket with him, not to provide warmth, but rather, she suspects, to cocoon the two of them into their own little world. _He’s sweet like that_. 

Seemingly content with all of his good works, Cal Kestis sidles up to her, the dreaded Second Sister of the Inquisitorious, Trilla Suduri, and boops her on the nose. She’s too dazed to do much in that moment, though the sheer _audacity_ registers somewhere in the recesses of her mind. He follows that up by giving her a gentle kiss on the same spot, and then one more on her still slightly parted lips. Then he settles in beside her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. He draws lazy circles on her tummy with a feather light touch of his fingertips. He hums contentedly. She stares into space. As her eyelids slowly start to droop, she finds her lips curl up into a lazy, _undignified_ , one part of her mind whispers, _loving, and loved_ , counters the smarter part, smile. And that is how she drifts to sleep.


	2. Under His Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal and Trilla continue their evening's activities the next morning.

Trilla is slow in waking. She’s  _ warm _ , which is fairly unique in her experience, and  _ comfortable _ , which is downright unheard of. This is a circumstance she has  _ rarely _ found herself in over the course of her rather….  _ exciting  _ life. As such she is loath to rouse herself fully. Still, she’s already halfway to waking, so she might as well go all the way. 

The first thing she notices as her senses begin to return to her is the warmth is still there. She had thought that might have just been in her dreams, but it seems she is wrapped up in a blanket. She recalls having fallen asleep on her back, with Kestis attached firmly to her side, his head tucked neatly into the crook of her neck. Now, however, she finds herself on her side. Kestis, too, is on his side, with his back to her. He is, as usual, practically burrowed into her. 

Not that she’s complaining about this in any way. As a matter of fact, she takes a moment to press herself closer to him. One hand is trapped underneath his body which she curls protectively around his torso, relishing the feel of his warm flesh under her fingers. But even more enticing, her  _ other _ hand is  _ free _ , currently resting lightly along the length of his leg. With  _ this _ hand, she commences tracing small circles on the exposed skin of his hip. The lack of pants gives her pause for a moment, before she recalls the  _ activities _ they had engaged in the night prior. 

She feels her cheeks flush with colour as the memories flood back. She gasps lightly as something  _ else _ begins to stir. She presses herself even further into his back, her nose deep in his hair. She  _ breathes _ in the scent of him, basking in  _ every  _ aspect of his presence that she can. Her free hand travels up to his chest and settles over his heart. She can feel the gentle thrum of its beating through the pads of her fingers, her own heart’s rhythm matched to his. 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath full of  _ Cal Kestis _ and revels in the  _ shudder _ that every aspect of him causes her. As much as she loves him and likes to let him rest, and she well and truly  _ does love him _ , the effect he’s having on her at the moment is too much to bear. Her fingers twitch against his chest at the mere  _ thought _ of what she’s planning. And with that her mind is made up. 

She smirks into his deliciously soft hair as she enacts the first phase of her plan. The hand that has been in a holding pattern over his tender heart now has new orders. Grinning devilishly to herself, Trilla starts by rubbing small circles into his chest with the tips of her fingers. She is rewarded for her efforts by the sound of a contented hum, vibrating pleasantly through her entire body.  _ Good. Time for Phase Two. _

While still maintaining her circular ministrations, she shifts her head away from the back of his and towards his  _ delightfully  _ unguarded neck.  _ Target acquired _ . She dips her head down and exhales an only  _ slightly _ shuddering breath against his pale skin. His twitch is absolutely  _ delicious _ . While she would normally relish the opportunity to tease those little shivers and spasms out of him, right now she has a more pressing desire. In fact, it’s beginning to  _ press against  _ his back. 

_ Enough waiting. She can only endure so much. _

Having decided to accelerate her plans, she begins to move her hand away from his chest, using her nails to trace a path down the front of his body. Cal groans and stirs, his sleeping mind finally losing the battle with Trilla’s increasingly  _ targeted _ attention. She takes this opportunity to push him even further over the edge by dragging her teeth lightly over the skin of his neck. She is rewarded once again with a groan, this one sounding rather less  _ sleepy _ and rather more  _ excited _ . 

“Mmm…… Trilla…?” 

His voice is still heavy with sleep, but she can detect a faint  _ trace _ of something  _ heated _ in there. Foregoing a verbal response, she places a soft kiss on his neck, reaching further and further down the front of his body. 

“Mmmm what are you doing, Trilla? Oh! O-oh……”

His questions are cut short when her questing fingers wrap around their destination and give him a gentle squeeze. The soft, breathy moan that squeeze elicits is music to her ears, and she would do  _ anything _ to hear more. And so, in order to accomplish her mission, she starts to softly trace her fingers over his rapidly hardening length. Her efforts result in a near breathless gasp, followed by a low groan of pleasure. She’s sure he can feel her smile against his neck, but rather than let up on her assault of his senses, she chooses this moment to scrape her teeth across the veins throbbing beneath the skin. His gasp as she sinks her teeth in and sucks is pure  _ bliss _ . 

He is putty in her hands. Or so she  _ thinks _ , at least. Cal Kestis is, as he has demonstrated continuously throughout the entirety of the time she has known him, never content to simply accept his circumstances. It is thus quite a shock to her system when she feels his hand snake around to her ass and  _ squeeze _ . She’s so surprised that she gasps aloud, detaching her lips from his neck. If she expected him to stop after that first act, she is sorely mistaken. Instead, he doubles down by pulling her closer to him while she scrambles to regain her slightly shaken composure. His chuckle somehow cuts through the static in her brain. It is  _ low _ and  _ heated _ and  _ burns through her _ . 

“Two can play at that game, you know.” 

She can  _ feel _ the smirk on his lips. She’s about to retort when he manages to steal her breath away  _ again _ . This time he does it by grinding against her. Her brain has, once again, stopped working. She’s vaguely aware of her hand having paused in its feather light touches, now trembling against his shaft. That distant awareness of the world beyond is shattered when she feels his legs spread and his hand reach between them to grasp her patiently waiting shaft. He deftly slides it in between his legs before closing them around her. He  _ grinds _ on her again, drawing the same shuddering breaths from her lips that  _ she _ was trying to draw from  _ his _ .  _ The little shit _ . 

“I was having a good dream, but I can’t say I’m sorry to be woken up like  _ this _ .” 

His voice is thick with unspoken desire as he slowly gyrates on her painfully hard cock, his fingers tracing lightly around the head. It sends chills down her spine and she is nearly catatonic, paralyzed by his touch. She can’t move, can’t think, can barely  _ breathe _ , every  _ shred _ of her being  _ suffused _ with his warmth.  _ His love _ . And right now, of course, his  _ lust _ . A distant part of her mind wonders if he can feel her  _ own _ carnal desires, and how they must be intertwining with his, how it must  _ feel _ . Then he squeezes her head gently with his fingers and her mind blanks again. 

“Was there something specific you wanted when you so  _ rudely _ interrupted my beauty sleep, my dear? Or were you just looking to  _ tease _ me….” 

He punctuates his words with a  _ squeeze _ , drawing little groans from her lips each time. Her hands move of their own accord, her mind not particularly equipped to give orders at the moment, one moving to wrap around his chest, the other grasping his hip. She’s sure her fingers are probably holding too tight,  _ bruising _ his soft, supple flesh, but that’s really  _ his _ fault. 

He’s  _ gorgeous _ . And he’s  _ smart _ . And  _ strong _ , and  _ brave _ , and  _ talented _ , and  _ funny _ and  _ warm _ . And  _ loving _ , and  _ he loves her _ . And, perhaps most importantly in this moment,  _ he knows her _ . 

_ He knows every button of hers,  _ **_where_ ** _ to push, and  _ **_how_ ** _ to push. _ **_And oh how he has pushed_ ** . 

Cal seems to have read her mind somehow as she can feel his fingers, having left their ministrations for a moment, are now back and slick with his saliva. Those nimble digits work quickly, coating the head and shaft and leaving her  _ shuddering  _ with anticipation. 

She pulls slightly away from him when she feels he has finished with his work. Not too far, of course, just enough to grant her access to him. She casts a glance down the length of his back, marvelling at his well toned musculature. And that  _ fantastic _ ass. She brings her hand to his lips and he immediately coats them in saliva for her. 

Looking down again, she takes her spit slick fingers and slides them between his cheeks. He groans as she gently probes his entrance, spreading his own saliva around and loosening him up. She treasures every  _ delicious  _ sound he makes, committing them to her memory for later while her fingers continue with their work. She is tempted to continue this forever, relishing the power she has to give him such  _ pleasure _ . 

But he has other plans, it seems. She gasps softly as his hand reaches around to grasp her shaft once again. She grins manically to herself as watches him line her up with his entrance. She gives him a little help, spreading his cheek and edging her hips forward slightly to help him aim. 

The tip makes contact. 

His hand drops away from her shaft and slides back to her hip. 

His voice is barely a whisper as he speaks, the words turning the fire in her belly into a blazing inferno. 

“ _ I want you _ .” 

She pushes forward with her hips, feeling the pressure building. Slowly,  _ oh so slowly _ , she can feel the resistance weakening. The tension in her gut builds and builds and  _ builds _ , her mind both  _ screaming _ and  _ silent _ at once. She is patient, though, careful not to be too hasty and accidentally hurt him. Once again, Cal surprises her. 

_ Really _ , she thinks,  _ she should be used to this by now. _ He’s  _ always _ been impulsive,  _ always _ taken risks, heedless of his own safety. Of course they always seem to pay off for him, so perhaps he has a better understanding of things than she gives him credit for. 

Those thoughts fly through her mind at lightspeed, barely making an impression on her, all her focus being drawn to the feeling of his hips connecting with hers. His sharp thrust backward into her has, once again, completely shorted out her brain. She barely registers the sound of his drawn out groan, let alone her  _ own _ shuddering moan. The whole of her being is caught up in the pleasure she’s feeling, her arms wrapping tight around his chest without her conscious order to do so. 

She would be content, she thinks, to simply stay like this until the stars burn out and the universe dies. She is wrapped up so completely in his presence, both figuratively and, in a sense,  _ quite _ literally, that there is  _ nothing _ more she could ever want. Nothing more she could even  _ dream _ of. 

Cal’s movements draw her from her meandering thoughts. He is slowly grinding against her,  _ again _ , and rubbing her leg with his hand. An inquiring hum from his throat tells her everything she needs to know about his intentions. She begins to move her hips against his, slowly at first. Her lips find the crook of his neck again and she plants a trail of soft kisses leading up to his ear. 

The groan of pleasure that her nibbling draws out of him is  _ exquisite _ . She uses that to fuel her desire for him even further, her thrusts increasing in speed in an attempt to replicate those noises she loves so much. Her hands have their run of his flesh, rubbing and scraping and caressing as far as they can reach. The panting and moaning she is rewarded with is enough to drive her crazy, but she holds on to her composure with an iron fist.  _ She’s not done yet _ . 

This position, while certainly enjoyable, is starting to grow uncomfortable, what with her right arm trapped under his body and all. Throwing her left leg over his, she gently rolls him onto his stomach and drapes herself over his back. From this new position she has full access to his back, a fact which she takes full advantage of to drag her nails down its full length as she lifts herself into a sitting position. 

She marvels at the beauty on display, as well as the lines left by her nails, and sighs contentedly. She settles into a gentle rhythm, riding him into the bed and alternately planting kisses and dragging her nails across his back. 

His face, turned to the side so he can breathe more easily, is flushed a lovely shade of red nearing that of his hair. She stares for a moment at the rapturous look he has, before dropping down and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He groans into her mouth as she continues to thrust into him and she moans right back. Her tongue darts in and out of his mouth, dancing around with his, sending cascading waves of pleasure and desire through her. 

Time passes without leaving any impression. She is so lost in exploring him, feeling him,  _ consuming _ him. Every twitch and shudder, moan and panting breath, she  _ devours _ it all. 

She can  _ feel _ it, the way his breath comes in shallower and shallower gasps, the way he  _ writhes _ beneath her. He’s getting close.  _ She’s _ getting close, too. She draws back, pulling him up to his knees as she does. It takes a lot of effort on his part, which she notes with delight. His whole body is flushed now, glistening with sweat and trembling. She allows him a moment to breathe before leaning over to whisper in his ear. 

“Are you ready,  _ my little Jedi? _ ” 

He can only nod in response. 

She huffs a quick breath of laughter,  _ delighting _ in the shudder than runs through him as she does, and straightens up. She places her hands on his hips, pulls back, and slams forward. His moan is long and low, coming from deep within his chest, and so is  _ hers _ . Her hips slam forward again, the sound of flesh on flesh mingling with the harmony of their voices. 

The brief lull in their passions while she changed their positions is all but forgotten and once again they are both racing rapidly to a blazing crescendo. She knows because she can feel him tightening around her as he groans out her name, the ecstasy in his voice a symphony to her ears. 

Her voice matches his, in both volume and meaning. She is getting  _ close _ , as close as  _ he _ is. 

She drops her chest to his back and wraps her arms around his body, one hand immediately finding its way to his throbbing shaft. Her fingers wrap around him and she immediately begins stroking him in time with her thrusts. His gasp at her touch is  _ exhilarating _ , spurring her to even greater  _ speed _ , greater  _ intensity _ . 

_ He’s so close. She’s so close. She can  _ **_feel_ ** _ it. Almost….  _ __

“ _ Trilla _ ….  _ I want it _ ….” 

At the sound of his words,  _ her name _ ,  _ the dam bursts _ . With a keening groan tearing through her lips she releases  _ everything _ . His voice joins hers as he hits his own peak, spilling himself all over their bed. She continues to thrust, though her pace is faltering as each successive wave of pleasure throws her rhythm off. Her mind blanks with the overwhelming  _ bliss _ , the pure, unadulterated _ ecstasy. _

An eternity passes in a moment. Deafening silence, blinding darkness, every muscle contracting and relaxing at once. 

Cal collapses forward, heedless of the mess staining the sheets, and she follows him down. They are still anchored together, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His breathing is coming in gasps and pants, as is her own, leaving no room for words. 

There is stillness for a moment, apart from their heaving chests, before he gently rolls the both of them onto their right side. She can feel his back expand as he draws in a deep breath, and she lazily drapes her left arm over his chest. They lay there, unmoving once again, and bask in the afterglow. 

Her lips twist up into a grin as he takes her hand in his and brings it to his lips. 

She knows they will have to get up sooner or later. They’ll both need a trip to the refresher, and their sheets will need to be cleaned as well, that’s for sure. But for the moment, she is content to remain where she is, sticky and sweaty and satisfied.  _ At peace _ . 

Cal’s voice is raspy and drained, but full of dazed bliss. 

“I love you, Trilla.” 

She can’t help the small smile that wrinkles her eyes every time he says it, try as she might to hide it when in mixed company. But here, alone in their room, the sanctuary away from the rest of the galaxy, she is free to be who she _wants_ to be. And she _wants_ to smile. And she _wants_ to love. And by the Force and all that exists in the galaxy, she won’t let _anything_ stop her here. Least of all her own stubborn _pride_. 

“ _ I love you too, Cal _ .” 


End file.
